Fast forward to 2008 and she's become a star. Her single has become a massive national hit over the airwaves. Her debut album smashed into the Top 10. But the biggest surprise to the public is her age. It transpires (as radio presenters constantly point out - a little too eagerly for my liking) that this songstress is only a tender sixteen years old.
I think back to when I first met her in her humble days as a struggling third-on-the bill artist. But rather than being filled by any sense of pride, I am profusely alarmed. If I announced to colleagues that she was attractive in 2007, yet she's only 16 years old in 2008, then my comments become lauded with a sinister overtone. Are confessions of fleetingly impure thoughts about this 15 year old girl technically illegal?
In my defence, how was I supposed to know her age at the time? She was all dressed up like an adult. She's got a singing voice like a 40 year-old. She didn't seem in the slightest bit angst-ridden like normal teenagers are.
But nevertheless, this leaves me in quite a scruple. Will my colleagues consider me Wolverhampton's ethical answer to R. Kelly? I'm no good at making distinctions. I couldn't tell you for instance, when a soup stops being a mere soup and becomes a chowder. Or the point in which a Strawberry yoghurt is promoted to being a strawberry fool.
Perhaps I am a low-life. Even lower than the man at the court who I childishly snickered at yesterday. Should I be spearheading a witch-hunt against myself until I am safely locked away, no longer a threat to the public? Should I be ripping my own genitalia off with a compass?
Was Garbriella trying use her provocative clothing and omnipresent hit 'Nothing Sweet About Me' as some sort of prophetic warning? I don't know, I never paid much attention to the lyrics. Not even once in the 100 times a day that the song still seems to get played. I've no reason to - it's not like I'm trying groom her or anything. And anyway even if I was, she released it when she was 16, which although would be morally redunant, is now at least technically within the confines of the law.
Although I've never been nearer than 3 feet away from the girl (and let's face it, after this entry I can't imagine it being very likely to happen in the future either), I still can't help feel a foreboding sense of paranoia hanging over me. What if my colleagues grass me up for those comments in 2007? Better keep them all on side and never mention it again - to anyone.
But if prison does await, I sincerely hope they don't kill me. It would be a ridiculous sounding turn of phrase to think they were to 'kill me over Cilmi'.
Footnote to self
Sometimes some days may be dull and you may have little to write about.
On balance the 'Kill me over Cilmi' observational word-play gag was not worth the stronger implications laid out by the greater contextual content of this entry. In fact this is a wrecklessly self-destructive thing to have written. Having said that, at the time of writing, you have fallen 4 days behind in your blog. You haven't got time to go back and do it again. Just move on, safe in the knowledge that no-one ever reads this shit anyway.
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